


Stay

by Scummy



Series: Stay series [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of past abuse, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 00:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13799634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scummy/pseuds/Scummy
Summary: A progression of healing. Saeran’s never had the time, but each step counts for something. A focus on the two brothers' shaky beginnings at reconnecting, and some insights to Saeran’s thoughts about the process.---Geraniums. They’re what comes to mind first as he stares at the door in front of him. It’s closed, light brown, and still just as daunting as if it was some iron gate decorated with spikes. They had saved Saeyoung. Saeran had helped him. He really helped save his brother, but his mind still couldn’t process it, even after a month.A whole month of you cradling him as he shyly slipped into your bed.  A whole month of awkward breakfasts quickly filled with shy and bashful conversation. He was used to being watched as he slept, or at least feeling watched as he tossed and turned during the short hours he attempted to rest. Now Saeran almost felt spoiled when he woke up with a full night of sleep, still feeling the weight of your head resting on his chest.You had helped him stay in line as the day to speak to his brother drew near. He didn’t ask you for much. In fact, he tried to make sure he didn’t most of the time, but your presence alone helped him feel safe and secure.





	Stay

Geraniums. They’re what comes to mind first as he stares at the door in front of him. It’s closed, light brown, and still just as daunting as if it was some iron gate decorated with spikes. They had saved Saeyoung. Saeran had helped him. He really helped save his brother, but his mind still couldn’t process it, even after a month.

A whole month of you cradling him as he shyly slipped into your bed.  A whole month of awkward breakfasts quickly filled with shy and bashful conversation. He was used to being watched as he slept, or at least feeling watched as he tossed and turned during the short hours he attempted to rest. Now Saeran almost felt spoiled when he woke up with a full night of sleep, still feeling the weight of your head resting on his chest.

You had helped him stay in line as the day to speak to his brother drew near. He didn’t ask you for much. In fact, he tried to make sure he didn’t most of the time, but your presence alone helped him feel safe and secure.

 

“Will you stay with me?”

It’s such a simple question, but as he tries to gets the words out his voice fails him, cracking before he can finish the sentence. He has to retry it, worrying his lip before successfully asking what he needs.

You don’t even speak. Without hesitation, your slip your arms around him, resting your head against his shoulder and nodding. Before you had downloaded that app, he had barely received this kind of affection in his life. He was used to the comfort he craved feeling cold and empty, where he was often left with regrets of receiving it in the first place. But now as your hands gently rub his back, he never wants to let go. Saeran just wants to melt into your embrace, to forget all his worries and soak up your warmth like a plant absorbing light.

Is that what he is? A plant? In the past he would compare himself to a weed, those around him being much more beautiful in ways he couldn’t even begin to dream of, but if you were here to help nurture him… that you saw some invisible beauty in him, could he even compare himself to a weed?

Maybe one day he could ask you, but as of right now he can barely consider the thought. His mind feels busy, a thousand words bouncing against his skull. Why was it so hard to focus? He’s focused before with computers whirring as his stomach attempted to eat itself, going onto his second day of no sleep. Yet here he was, staring that door down with you in his grasp, unable wrap his mind around talking to his brother, face to face, for the first time in years.

“I have to talk to him by myself,” He mutters, barely registering your nod against him. “I...Please stay out here.”

A murmur of a promise, and he forces himself to gently push you away from him. Saeran probably looks more confident than he feels. Each step towards the door separating him from his brother threatens the bones in his body to turn into some gross jelly. By the time his hand grasps the doorknob, he just wants to shrink into some small corner because he can't decide if he still wants Saeyoung dead.

Another deep breath, a vague memory of what his therapist had told him, and he opens the door.

The room feels cold. It's some office Jumin had lent the twins. He had told Saeran it was probably the best for them, something about having equal ground in new surroundings, about not feeling trapped in each others dens, but Saeran knew that if one thing went wrong then Jumin's security could bust through that door in no time.

Fake confidence. It's all he needs right now. It's all Saeran thinks he needs, until Saeyoung makes direct eye contact, his hands disappearing into that ridiculous hoodie of his.

“Saer-”

“Don’t-,” Saeran immediately looks down, grimmancing. “No names.”

He can hear Saeyoung's seat shift a little, his foot starting to nervously tap as he finally mutters an agreement.

Good. Saeran has control. He needs control. The situation isn't oblivious to him. The other RFA members were quick to try to dispel anything his savi- _Rika_ \- had engraved into his mind. Saeyoung went by Seven, he was a hacker, he never paid with cards and wasted his time being a ridiculous prankster.

Who also had apparently missed his brother. Who also only became a hacker to _protect_ Saeran, to help pay for some future Saeyoung had dreamed up for him. Instead he paid for Saeran’s brainwashing, his suit and plants, the basement he had been trapped in for a solid month.

Saeran sits down across from Saeyoung, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, taking a few minutes to himself before looking up at his twin.

“You left me.”

Saeyoung looks pained, and Saeran can't help the warmth of success in his heart. Good. Saeyoung deserves _some_ pain.

“Saer-”

“I said no names!” His voice is quick to rise, almost tipping over into a shrill yell. This was too soon, he can’t even control his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

Saeran pauses, frown stuck on his face as he glares at Saeyoung, tentatively holding his breath.

“I...I thought by leaving I would be able to help you-”

“Wrong.”

“I know. I was wrong. But I was a child. We were both kids- I thought V and-” His brother stops before Saeran can open his mouth again, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair. “I thought they were going to take care of you. He… he promised me. She promised me.”

“You promised me that you'd always take care of me,” Saeran responds slowly, crossing his legs. He needs to focus his eyes on something that isn't Saeyoung. “With how that turned out, promises aren't exactly always kept.”

“I didn't know-”

“Did you ever try?!” Another outburst. Fuck. Saeran's voice cracked with that one, and he rests his palms against his forehead and he bends over, trying to will the anger to subside just for a moment.

“I did, I- I asked V about you all the time,” There he was, using that traitor’s name- No, that's not what he was, was he? “She gave me pictures, I still have the floppy Rika gave me-”

He ignores the name slips, at least this time, because the mention of a floppy disc piques his curiosity. “A floppy?”

“Yeah I- No one uses them anymore, so it was safe,” Saeyoung acts as if he’s patting his pockets. “I didn’t bring it with me, they...They were pictures of you smiling, so I thought you were okay. You had to be okay.”

Saeran scoffs. When was the last time he even smiled before Magenta? “I wasn’t-”

“I just- I didn’t know Saeran-”

“Stop-”

“I didn’t know- Everyone told me you were safe, every time I asked V he said you were healthy, and happy, and that Rika was taking good care of you-”

Saeran stands up, pushing back the office chair he was sitting in from the force, ready to screech again about Saeyoung's insistence on saying those cursed names. Saeyoung, however, stands up just as fast as he does, grabbing Saeran’s arm.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

The world spins for a moment, and the next thing Saeran is conscious of doing is pushing Saeyoung away. Shoving him down onto the floor, watching his head hit the edge of the seat. There's words spilling out from both of their mouths, but Saeran can't hear them, he can only hear ringing throughout his head. The ringing reverberates, and before he can process it he can't see anything.

His limbs feel like static, his mind is shaking and his eyes feel heavy. There’s a repeated pain against the back of his head, over and over again, and he just wants it to stop. He wants all of this to stop. Was this a nightmare? Was he even alive? Should he be alive…? No. No he shouldn't, he never did what he was supposed to, he never finished those-

“-an?”

There's a muffled noise coming into his left ear, and he just tries to back away, but he can’t command his body to move. He can't fucking feel anything but damned static sensation and his throat suddenly burning. What was happening? What was wrong with his head? Why couldn't he even think without it hurting?

“Saeran?”

He hates it. He hates that name so much. He hates everything having to do with him. It would be so much easier if he didn't exist, but he could never bring himself to do it, he was such a fucking coward. He just wanted to feel warm again...

Something light pats his head. He only notices because it's the first thing he feels that doesn't hurt. Slowly, he looks up, trying to get his eyes to see something other than pitch black, trying to understand if he even had eyes anymore, with how badly they ache.

“Saeran, please…”

There's a small familiar tone with that voice. Slowly, the ringing in his ears diminishes, and he can feel a soft grip on his wrists. Reluctantly, he allows the grip to pull his hands away, and suddenly he can see again. He can see, and all that is in his vision is your worried face.

What…

“What did I do?” He croaks out, noticing his cheeks are damp. There's a small pained look across your face, and fear hits him harshly. It’s difficult for him not to raise his voice and demand an answer.

“W-What did I-”

“No one's hurt.” You sit down in front of him, disregarding the skirt you're wearing to properly try and coax him, reaching to rub his arms gently. “You pushed your brother and started yelling, but you didn't do anything worse than that.”

He peers over your shoulder, noticing that he’s in the corner of the office. The chair Saeyoung was sitting in is on its side, but he's not there. Its just Saeran, you, and a man in a security outfit waiting by the door.

Slowly, your hand leaves his arm, reaching behind him. He jumps, and after you both still for a moment, he carefully leans forward to encourage you into finishing whatever you were about to do.

You pat the back of his head, softly, and Saeran realizes just how sore it is.

“You were hitting your head… uhm… against the wall.”

There's a small twinge of sadness in your voice. Barely there, behind the strong persona you give off, and for some reason it coaxes Saeran to completely lean against you, burying his face against your neck.

He hates crying in front of people, especially hates how often you've seen him cry, but his grief beats all his other emotions before he can stop himself.

You didn't deserve to put up with him. You deserved someone much happier, and even though he was out of Mint Eye, he had no idea how much longer you would be able to stand him.

* * *

It’s three weeks before he can handle hearing Saeyoung’s name again. This time, the RFA doesn't push for them to meet right away. It was clear Saeran still had trouble controlling himself, and even with the help of the therapist Jumin was able to get him, there were moments where he’d hide in his dark room, curled up in a corner.

You couldn't always be there for him. You had a life of your own. Job, family, friends. As much as he wanted to see your smiling face, he made sure that you spent time away from him. Saeran knew that if he so much as hinted that he wasn't feeling well, you'd drop everything to help him. And he couldn't burden you with that forever.

The two of you almost lived together. He has his own place, provided by Jumin, that was small and cozy. Not as small as his room in Mint Eye, but it's definitely not one of the luxury apartments Jumin had tried giving him at first. His place is bare, almost drenched with the color white due to his impulsive minimalistic ways. There wasn't much to own at Mint Eye, and it becomes painfully obvious at how little he owned when you're gone and all your sleepover supplies are too.

Your routine was to visit him at least once a week. More often than not, your minimum ended up being three times a week, but your job and your life just got in the way sometimes. He understood now, and he was proud to say that if you hadn't visited him in a few days, his impulsive thoughts of worthlessness weren't nearly as bad as they used to be.

After his initial visit with Saeyoung, you stayed with him that night, holding him close to you as he shivered under the covers. His outbursts still scared him, but he wasn’t strong enough to push you away so he could deal with them on his own. Thankfully, the next day he did. It wasn’t out of hatred, or an unwillingness to let you see him weak, but because he knew he just couldn’t rely on you for every little thing that bothered him.

The weeks passed. You visiting at least once a week, because while he needed to work on himself, it wasn’t healthy (according to his therapist and you, at least) to shut himself up in his room like he had a tendency to do. Admittedly...those days when you visited were the best to him, because it felt like he was being enveloped in a warmth that made him feel safe and secure. You always talked to him in a kind voice, went on about details of your day and didn’t mind his curiosity about how a normal life went. You bathed him in small compliments that often brought tears to his eyes because there was finally someone to speak against all the negative voices in his head.

And while he loved all of your visits, your current visit had him...perplexed. It wasn’t unusual for you to bring a small gift or surprise for him, but they usually ranged from a trinket you thought was ‘cute’ and would make him happy, to a small houseplant or two. Not...a envelope with a nondescript cellphone accompanying it.

Saeran didn’t have to hazard much of a guess to know who had asked you to bring it.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, Saeran.”

God, the number of times he felt guilty that you were wrapped up in all of this. All of his drama, his remorse, almost every little thing connected to him. But...he was still selfish and thankful that you were there at the same time.

“Thank you.”

He gently takes them out of your hand, eyeing the envelope while cutting the phone on. It’s void of any name, but you take the initiative to leave the room, muttering about how you needed to put your bags up. Saeran honestly doesn’t know if he could ever coherently express how happy he is that you pick up instantly when he needs a moment to think.

The phone is blank, no numbers or anything remarkable about it. Doesn’t have any well known carrier logos when it cuts on, though, so it’s easy to deduce that Saeyoung’s tampered with it in some way, more than likely following the lines of V’s phone.

Saeran opens the envelope, trying not to be too clumsy and rip the paper inside of it. When he takes the paper out, all he can manage is a sigh. Saeyoung always had better handwriting than him…

His first instinct is to crumple it up and throw it away, make it clear that he never wants to talk to his brother, but...there was that small sad tug inside of him. As much as he hated giving into it, he forces himself to follow his second impulse and scan the letter. It’s a bit lengthy, and Saeran wishes he didn’t have to deal with this right when you walked in, but he sits back on the couch and reads it a second time, trying to see any holes to the logic that Saeyoung is trying to provide. It’s full of apologies, ranging from the reused one of how Saeyoung was kept in the dark about Saeran, to new apologies for being rash and unable to stop talking during their last meeting. A few bad jokes with obviously shaky handwriting, and there’s a phone number and a short explanation about the phone. It’s prefaced that he doesn’t have to use it if he doesn’t want to, but if Saeran ever did have the urge, he could message Saeyoung with it and not have to worry about anyone else seeing their messages.

It’s tempting, but Saeran can hear your footsteps in the doorway to the living room. He peeks over his shoulder, a small smile on his lips as you try to dip away from the door frame before he catches you.

“It’s alright. You won’t bother me.”

Slowly, you poke your head back in, smiling shyly.

“Are you sure? It’s okay if you need more time.”

“Yes, I’m sure, here,” He reaches out, thankful when you walk into the living room to take his hand. “I’m not upset. I’m okay.”

And it’s true. For some reason, reading Saeyoung’s words is a lot easier than hearing them. Was that progress? He doesn’t know, but maybe in time he will. For now, though, he pockets the phone and rests the letter on the coffee table, pulling you onto his lap. He had really missed you…

* * *

“Do you remember how you got this?”

Saeran studies the bookmark he had made for Saeyoung when they were both younger, sitting at the kitchen table with a small glass of water. You hum, drying your hands on a dish towel and you walk to see what he’s looking at.

“Oh, uhm...Surprisingly, someone from the ‘Lost and Found’ in that….place, gave it to me. I told them it was mine since, well...what had happened in the garden…”

Saeran vaguely nods along, relaxing into your touch as you rest your hands on his shoulders.

“I didn’t recognize the name at the time, but now I’m glad I was able to save it for you.”

“Me too…” He takes in a deep breath. It’s difficult thinking about Mint Eye, about how he barely had control of himself, but day by day it gets easier with patience towards the subject. “This was a bookmark I made for Saeyoung when we were kids. Well, by then he had...already left.”

Slowly, he feels your arms wrap around his shoulders, your chest against his back as you rest your head aside his. He can’t bring himself to look at you, too focused on the bookmark in his palm, and the memories associated.

“My fondness of flowers didn’t start at Mint Eye,” He explains with slight hesitation on the name. “When I was younger, our church had a garden, and eventually I was allowed to plant flowers in it. Help tend to it. She...showed me how, because at first she truly was kind to me. Once I learned how to garden, her and that man helped me learn about the language of flowers. Specifically, that man did. He bought me a book, flowers...He even helped me with these bookmarks.”

He flips it over, looking at the childish handwriting.

“I made this for Saeyoung, since I had learned that geraniums meant ‘I’m happy because of you’. Even though he was gone, I couldn’t accept it. I just...kept hoping that he’d come back, he’d see the garden, the flowers I planted for him…” This is harder for him than saying the other’s names. He can feel his throat burning, feeling as if it was closing on itself. “I wanted him to see the bookmark, and tell me that I made him happy too, and that’s...that’s why he would come back.”

You press your lips against his temple before moving to rest on your knees in front of him, cupping his cheek. Saeran is biting his lip hard, trying to keep the tears welling up in his eyes from spilling down his cheeks.

“D-Do you think he’ll still accept it, even though I-I hated him for so long?”

You give him such a sweet smile, and he can’t help from letting out a small hiccup, taking a shaky breath as a few tears escape.

“Saeran, I think he would love to have it.”

Almost as soon as he gives in to his overwhelming emotions, you stand to give him a proper hug, letting him sob against your chest. As your fingers gently rake through his hair, Saeran’s grateful that you’re here with him, that you’re willing to stay beside someone as damaged as he is. What person hated their own brother, yet craved love and acceptance from them as well? And how could an angel like yourself still look past his flaws to comfort him?

Saeran couldn’t understand, but he was so thankful that you were willing to do so. With you by his side to help talk him through the past, maybe there was a chance he could really reconnect with him after all.

* * *

It’s hard. It truly is. He manages to send a single text to Saeyoung before his anxiety getting the best of him and he forces himself to cut the phone off before he can even get a response. The cellphone is left alone on the coffee table for the most part. A single week since he had received it, and the first text he sent saying nothing but ‘I read the letter’. Pointless, really, since he texted him to begin with, but a simple greeting seemed ridiculous to send. Years without seeing each other and opening up the conversation with ‘Hello’? No.

It takes him a few hours to turn the phone back on again, gripping it tight as he watches for alerts. After a few seconds, it chimes three times, and he watches the text notifs flash across the screen before the display cuts off. And...He just stares at the black screen, chewing the inside of his cheek before slowly cutting the display back on and numbly unlocking the phone.

Could he really text his brother like this?

He taps at the screen, viewing the messages Saeyoung sent back. A thanks, a late greeting, and emphasis on how Saeran doesn’t have to text him if he doesn’t want to, but that Saeyoung is thankful he read the letter regardless.

His body doesn’t feel like his own as he reads the messages over again. He’s aware that he exists, but at the same time the situation feels surreal to a point where it’s as if he can’t feel how he connects to himself. Almost as if he’s watching his body move instead of controlling it. It doesn’t exactly feel good, but he manages to type out a quick message back.

_Me 1:37 PM_

_I cant text much but I will_

It’s a vague attempt at a promise, but thankfully Saeyoung seems to understand as the days go past. At first, he can only manage a few brief texts a day. Saeyoung keeps it simple at first, asking how Saeran’s day was, if he remembered to eat, how he felt and if therapy was going well. Saeran often skipped the last question in turn to ask Saeyoung a few of his own. Eventually, small talk was easier for him. Texting his brother instead of seeing him face to face helped disconnect himself from the usual influx of negative emotions that would swarm him. Instead, he could put the phone down when he was overwhelmed and do something to relax him. Saeyoung seemed to understand this, and slowly Saeran found himself beginning to put aside his hate, bit by bit.

A week of talking to each other like this, and Saeran felt comfortable enough to let the topics start shifting deeper than smalltalk. Saeyoung started explaining about the past more in short messages and wouldn’t send another until Saeran sent an acknowledgement that it was okay to do so. And while it hurt, Saeran was able to keep the texts to read over again and again later so he can try and contest the paranoid thoughts that would eat up inside him at night.

One of those nights is one when you’re not there. He’s thankful, but also craving the attention. Your words helped him calm down, helped him remember to breathe and that he wasn’t alone in the universe. But you weren’t here, and he needed to learn not to rely solely on you. So, he pulled out the phone Saeyoung had sent him, ready to pour over the messages again, but he just keeps replaying the scene of their last meeting over and over again in his mind. Screaming, shoving Saeyoung down, how the security officer stared him down when you were helping him stand. He felt like a caged animal. Not one that was strong, but scared and barking at everyone around watching, biting if anyone came too close. Maybe that’s all he really was… He even lashed out at his own brother, hadn’t he?

Before he realizes, he’s typing a message to Saeyoung, holding his breath.

_Me 2:53 AM_

_didd i hurt u when i pushed u?_

 

_Saeyoung 2:53 AM_

_No. I’m okay, Saeran._

It’s so small, but Saeran hiccups, turning the phone’s display off again and letting himself softly cry out of relief. He didn’t hurt him. Thank god.

* * *

They don’t meet in the office Jumin had originally provided. You had a car, and Saeran was grateful that you were willing to pick Saeyoung up and bring him to his home. As he paced in the living room, he could hear your voice and Saeyoung’s muffled behind the front door. The two of you weren’t loud, but he still felt anxious and his stomach churned. Talking face to face was going to be more difficult than through text, but if he could stand up to Rika, then he could truly handle this. He just needed confidence. Saeyoung...wasn’t going to hurt him. As much as his anxieties screamed he was, Saeran knew that Saeyoung wouldn’t leave him again. Not after how the RFA wouldn’t stop hinting that his twin wouldn’t stop talking about him and how proud he was for Saeran going to therapy and living on his own.

Small praises, but it made Saeran’s chest feel warm. Doused in what felt like sunlight.

Slowly, the door opens, and Saeran turns around to see Saeyoung freeze at the same time he does. They stare at each other, but before he lets his cold feet take over, Saeran steps forward and opens the door fully- A quiet invitation for Saeyoung to come inside.

Once Saeyoung steps in and Saeran closes the door, everything is silent. There isn’t a rush of hatred right away. It’s there, trying to bubble underneath his skin, but Saeran feels as though he has control over it and is able to reduce it to a point that he can safely ignore it.

“I don’t have any seats in the living room besides the couch,” Saeran weakly gestures, unable to meet Saeyoung’s eyes a second time. “We can talk there.”

“Okay…”

Saeyoung sits down first, off to the side to give Saeran enough room so they don’t touch. Saeran ignores his attempt at providing a safe distance and sits more towards the middle. There’s space between them, but not a huge gap like before.

He’s unsure on what Saeyoung is going to attempt to say first, so Saeran skips right to the meat of it all.

“I was made to hate you.” Right, okay, that didn’t come out right. He lets out a frustrated sigh, clenching his fists. “She...Rika...Made me believe I needed to hate you. I’m working through it. It’s...hard.”

Saeyoung opens his mouth, then closes it, thinking. Saeran isn’t watching him, but he can hear the sound of his lips parting and the small sigh that escapes when Saeyoung can’t find the words. How is he going to react to that? Saeran just said he basically hated him. Off to a bad start already.

“Can I help?”

“I’m not sure. I know that you didn’t mean to hurt me. I’ve had several people explain it to me, and I’m sure if V was here he would explain it as well.”

“But?”

“Therapy...Is helping with it. You’ve talked to me a lot about your side of things...I want to talk about mine.”

Saeyoung nods, and Saeran meets his gaze for a moment before speaking, staring at his hands.

“I was brainwashed. It sounds weird to say, and it’s hard calling it that, because I was told to call it ‘cleansing’. I was essentially punished if I didn’t express hatred towards you, and if I didn’t try to make myself better than you.”

Repeating this over and over again in therapy and to you had helped Saeran learn to keep a dry tone with it all. Like he was reading a weather segment. Like these words didn’t explain his past, but maybe someone else's.

“I was overworked. I barely slept, I barely ate, because I thought I needed to prove I was useful, that I needed to become better than you in every way. But...I couldn’t.” Saeran sucks in a deep breath, the words starting to become harder to say. “Ever since we were kids...You were always better. You could leave the house more...Mother didn’t hit you as much, y-you weren’t tied up like I was. I was always weak.”

Saeyoung reaches out, his hand hovering over Saeran’s clenched one. There’s a solid moment of hesitation, but Saeran carefully eases his hand enough so Saeyoung can grasp it. His grip is soft, but tightens once he knows Saeran is okay with it. It gives Saeran more motivation to keep going, even as his throat burns with a shaky voice.

“It’s hard not seeing you as the better m-me. Something I can’t ever become. But ev-ever since I left that place, people are telling me things that I’m good at with no ulterior motive. Gardening, being careful with my words, th-that I am smarter than I realize. They’re paying me compliments because they think I deserve them, and not to try and trick me.”

“I’ve seen pictures of some of the plants she’s bought you, Sa…” Another sigh. Saeyoung’s being careful and trying not to use names. “You are good at gardening. I can’t even grow a weed if I tried.”

It’s a weak joke, one that doesn’t even deserve a chuckle, but Saeran offers a brief smile. Hearing a compliment from him...hurts, but at the same time makes him feel like they’re kids again wrapped up in their own little world. Where they supported each other, and were never apart.

“I don’t...I don’t want to hate you anymore, Saeyoung.” He takes in another shaky breath, feeling his eyes well up because he can’t keep up his strong facade anymore. “I w-want to be brothers again. I want to see you, a-and get ice cream together, and I want to s-see those silly robots the RFA says you make- I want to love you again.”

“Saeran…”

Saeran’s gripping Saeyoung’s hand tightly, and he’s sure if his nails weren’t bitten all to hell, that he’d be drawing blood. But he needs to hold on tight, because if this is some sort of cruel dream he doesn’t want to wake up yet, he wants to pretend it’s real for a moment longer.

He sits up and reaches for a book on the coffee table, opening the cover with an unsteady hand, picking up the bookmark inside before sinking against the cushions of the couch.

“I wanted to give this to you, w-when you came back, you know?” He sniffles, handing the bookmark to Saeyoung abruptly. “I made it when I was a child but-”

“I love it.”

Saeyoung’s voice is weak, and Saeran finally looks at him. His brother is holding the bookmark but looking back at Saeran, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I love it, Saeran. And I love you, even on your bad days. I love you, a-and that’s never changed. It never will.”

That’s his own breaking point. Saeran closes the space between them, wrapping his arms around his brother and holding him tight. It’s been a long time since he’s cried this hard, to the point where his sobs echo throughout his body, but it feels better than before. Every heave of emotion grants him relief from the pain he’s built up after years of neglect and abuse.

It’s such a small start, barely a step in the right direction in repairing their relationship, but with how tight Saeyoung is holding him Saeran has unwavering hope that they’ll finally become brothers yet again. Still holding onto their traumas, but healing together.

Honestly, it’s more than Saeran could even dream of asking for.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, sorry if the ending feels abrupt, there's going to be a part two in a few days (hopefully) that's going to be tacked on as another part of a series! I can't promise it'll be as long as this one was, but it's going to focus on Saeran and Mc.  
> Thank you for reading! I'm not accepting critiques, and please only comment if you read and enjoyed the story! Otherwise, thank you for your support and I hope you have a nice day! Feel free to check out my MM based tumblr, MmScum.tumblr.com, but I don't take writing requests on it any more.  
> 


End file.
